Heart in a Blender
by RipleyReprised
Summary: Quistis and Seifer, the night of Rinoa Rinoa and Squall's wedding. A purely self-indulgent piece of angst.


_AN: Like all works posted on this website, I don't own any of the characters or settings mentioned in this piece. _

_As a very brief preface, I wanted to say that this was originally written over ten years ago as part of a mega-chapter, ridiculous production that I never posted anywhere and never completed and eventually gave up on. I lost most of it over time but had an idea to attempt to re-produce it in pieces just for something to do while waiting for the bus. It may not make sense out of context but it could be fun. For me, anyway._

_XXXXXXX_

Quintus sighed as the dorm room door slid shut behind her. Alone at last. Rinoa and Squall's wedding weekend was complete. Now there was only the fall out to deal with.

She couldn't say it had been her worst day ever. Ultimecia was still responsible for that. However, it had not been one she would be keen to recall in the days ahead. The sooner she got out of Balamb and back home to Esthar, the sooner she could forget.

With two strides she was across the narrow room. It wasn't very large, not even an eighth of the size of the apartment she enjoyed while living and working in Garden a year ago. The military institution didn't take in very many guests, to be fair, and the few visitor accommodations were likely taken up by those of a more presidential status. She had no doubt her current _persona non grata_ status with Squall – a result of her leaving Balamb - had contributed to her relegation to cadet quarters.

At least it was private.

She was about to collapse onto the hard mattress when someone pounded on the door. Quistis sighed again. There was but one person who would have the gall to bother her now. He was also the last person with whom she had the energy to deal.

As the impatient knocking continued she debated ignoring it. But she knew it wouldn't work. Like any bully, the less attention he received, the nastier he grew. It was better to deal with him before things got ugly. Or uglier, anyway.

On a curse, she bent to unbuckle the ankle straps on her heels. If she had to face the jackass before she would be permitted to sleep, she may as well be comfortable.

Quistis padded back to the door on bare feet. She reached up to remove the pins from her hair, counting while tucking each one into her palm. Eight. Holding out her hand and studying the slim metal collection, she wondered if hair pins had ever successfully been used as a weapon. It was something worth keeping in mind.

The door shook once more, giving her the mental image of a fist denting titanium. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was too bad she hadn't had the chance to finish even one glass of champagne. The alcohol might have given her more courage.

Then again, the extra edge might be in her favour.

The man who greeted her on the other side of the entryway lived up to all expectation. Brows low, eyes slits of green fire, broad shoulders shifting under his grey dress shirt, Seifer Almasy looked as dangerous and as compelling as always. She wanted to run from him and fall into him in equal measure. As long as she lived she doubted she would ever shake the hold he had on her. The worst part was, there were many times she didn't want to.

Swallowing, Quistis smoothed back her hair and folded her arms over her chest. She was still fully covered by her evening gown but the man's gaze had the tendency to make her feel naked. Returning his glare, she waited for him to explain his rude disruption. When he remained silent she gave in.

"What do you want?"

Seifer smiled then, though there was no joy in his eyes. His expression remained as unreadable as it had been when they'd walked together down the aisle. Amidst the cheers and confetti, when they were supposed to be delighted in support of their newlywed friends, his face had been devoid of emotion.

In Seifer's defense, his blank expression had still showed more feeling than the groom's.

Now, hours later, he leaned in, resting an arm on the frame of the door by her head, and ignored her frown.

She couldn't help but notice he had ditched the tie forced on him by tradition, one that had matched the dark blue of her bridesmaid dress. The top buttons of his shirt were also undone and he had rolled up the sleeves partway, leaving his forearms bare. The look suited him, as did the colour of the fabric. It set off his golden hair and tan skin. But then, everything looked good on him.

Damn the man.

"So rude, Trepe," he scolded, keeping his eyes on hers. "Do you greet all your guests that way?"

It wasn't easy but he managed to keep his tone light and teasing. It was an old game and he was an original player. Seifer wasn't going to give away his early lead, even if her hair curled around her shoulders and her bare toes, nails painted a pale pink, folded into the rug. She could throw all the strapless dresses and quivering lower lips at him she wanted. He was stronger than that. Or so he willed himself to believe.

"It's late," she replied, taking an involuntary step forward, angling her neck. "We have said enough for one night, don't you think?"

He shot a glance over her bare shoulder, toward the dark bedroom. "Where is General Tight-ass? Don't tell me he left you alone on this most romantic of occasions."

"That is none of your business," she answered, moving to block his view of the emptiness behind her. Quistis lowered her arms and leaned her elbow next to his on the frame. The gold bracelet on her wrist glinted in the fluorescent lighting. Resting a high cheekbone on her fist, she smiled. "Where is, what was her name? Bunny? Aren't you late for your booty call?"

"I guess you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Seifer said, smirk growing. He moved closer and ducked his head so his nose brushed the shell of her ear. If he'd been a weaker man, or less experienced with the ways of the former SeeD, he might have given in to the scent of her skin. Heck, he still might, he admitted to himself. But not yet. "You've answered enough of mine in the last year."

Quistis couldn't stop the flushing in her cheeks any more than she could the tightening of her throat. Her hands swung up as she jerked from his heated breath. Hair pins flew from her open palms and scattered on the floor. Her hands landed on his chest. She used the leverage to push him out of the threshold. Then, as quickly, she dropped her hands and lowered them by her sides, forcing them to remain unclenched. She refused to let him know he still had the power to injure. Her eyes narrowed.

"Watch it."

"I have been. All night." His voice was still infuriatingly level. One eyebrow raised.

Now that he'd glimpsed emotion, nudged her beyond that first layer of pride, he had to see how far he could take it. She wasn't the only one who'd been hurt tonight.

Seifer resumed his former position, crowding her in the doorway. Not that she had shoved him very far.

"Quistis."

"Look," she cut him off. Her eyes met his again and for a moment he thought he saw a hint of vulnerability, of the kind she hadn't shown him in years. It took him by surprise and he felt himself soften. But after a second the rawness vanished. She was all fire and stone.

"You don't get to come here and say things and act like nothing matters. You don't get to leer at me or assume I will just do what I have always done." She was rambling, she knew. Fueled by exhaustion, guilt, disappointment, and fear, she couldn't stop the words from escaping. She was so tired of keeping up appearances, of trapping her swirling thoughts and bitter feelings in her too-heavy mind. They pleaded with her to be spilled, on to the carpet, on to Seifer's annoyingly well-fitted shirt, on to her blood-stained, culpable hands. She wanted to collapse, to beg him to just… Just what? Love her? Cradle her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay?

These ideas were too ridiculous for even her fantasies.

"You don't get to say my name like that," Quistis finished, with as much honesty as she could allow. Though she felt exposed, she didn't drop her gaze. "You have made it abundantly"

"Abundantly clear that I don't care, I know." It was his turn to interrupt. "You said that already. I haven't forgotten."

"Do you refute it?" His stare was too intense. Hating herself, she lowered her lashes, vision falling on the pulse at the base of his neck. The skin revealed by his open collar looked warm. She could remember how it felt under her fingers. Her lips. Swallowing, knowing he would notice, she looked back up.

The vulnerability hadn't been an illusion after all. Seifer felt his heart pick up speed in response to her sudden openness. He told himself to be suspicious. Quistis was as good at the game as he was, if not better. Something about the way her breath caught and her eyebrows furled, made him wonder if all this time they had both been tormenting each other needlessly. The words themselves hit their mark, as they were scripted to do. His brain told him to fight back against the irritation they caused. His instincts told him something else.

He had never been good at listening to reason.

Their mouths were already inches apart. It would be so simple, so expected of her to eliminate the space. She could see it in the way he watched her. He was waiting for her to ask. She couldn't be sure she wouldn't.

"Would it make a difference?"

The question floated between them. Before she could formulate a response, he breached the gap. His top teeth brushed against her lower lip then his mouth covered hers and it was all over.

Quistis inhaled, as if on a gasp. Her hand gripped the door frame but otherwise, she felt her body go lax. The heat poured through her, reaching to the tips of her bare toes. While the sensation was familiar, it was no less enveloping. As long as he was touching her, as long as their mouths teased and tortured each other, she wouldn't be able to pull away.

Seifer made no move to hold her. Their bodies kept apart. Though he wasn't sure how long he could keep his hands to himself. But he had made the first move. He was arrogant enough to believe she would make the next.

The scent that had tempted him earlier now danced over and around them. Her slow exhalation filled his mouth and he went deeper, demanded more, and gave her permission to surrender. He had to work to keep his thoughts in check. If he didn't, the slide of her tongue, the ripe taste of her, would make him lose control.

As Seifer shifted his lips to her jaw line, nipping at the skin underneath, unwelcome voices ripped through their mutual haze. The melodious trill of feminine laughter caused his eyes to open and her body to tense. Quistis yanked herself back and he held in several profane epithets.

They looked down the hall where two wedding guests were headed in their direction. Both women, one of whom Seifer recognized as flirting with him at the buffet, clung to each other giggling. It was obvious they had imbibed more than their share of the open bar. He couldn't tell if the two had seen them but one glance at Quistis told him there would be no picking up where they left off.

Quistis closed her eyes and released her hold on the door, touching her hand to her forehead. She should be grateful to the female SeeDs. They had saved her from a night of massive regret.

But if that was true, why did she feel like growling at them?

Straightening her shoulders, she turned back to Seifer. His expression was no less penetrating and no more decipherable than it had been before. It wouldn't be possible to get rid of him yet.

This should have dismayed her.

"You better come in," she said, with reluctance. It was a risk but better than continuing their discourse in public.

Seifer followed her into the room, flicking on the light as the door shut at his back. He looked around the tiny space, amused by the Spartan features. It was a lot like the room he'd had as a pissed off student. If he laid down on the floor width-wise, his feet would go through the wall. A small back suitcase rested on top of the plain desk and a garment bag hung in the open closet across from the bed. That was all the furniture the room would fit.

"So the General really isn't here," he said, finishing his observations. Seifer grinned and slid his hands into the pockets of his black pants.

"Of course he isn't." Quistis faced him, making sure to keep a metre of buffer zone between them. She ran a hand through her loose hair and then shoved it behind her shoulders with impatience. "Would I have let you in if he was?"

He shrugged, still smiling. "You might have wanted help getting rid of him." Seifer rolled back on his heels. "I wouldn't have minded punching the fucking condescending nose off his face. Where'd he go? Back to Esthar to iron his underwear?"

One eyebrow lifted, she regarded him with disdain. Her arms crossed over her chest in a classic defensive pose. "I don't know, Seifer. Maybe he took off with your date, Bitzi the Bimbo, or whatever her name was supposed to be. I couldn't understand her lisp."

The weak insult missed its target. "Nah," he replied with another shrug. "She left hours ago with some SeeD shithead. Said she couldn't stand to watch me stare at you all night."

"I don't blame her. That was incredibly rude of you." Quistis set her jaw and looked away, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

"So I guess it's just us," he said, doing a better job at maintaining his demeanour casual than she was. He leaned against the desk and grinned at her again. "Have anything in mind?"

This had her glaring at him once more and his smirk grew in triumph. Better an angry Quistis than a sarcastic one. Or a defenseless one, he thought, recalling his lapse of judgment in the hall.

"To clarify one point," she broke into his internal self-congratulation. "I am not sleeping with you."

If she had assumed this would deflate him, she had assumed wrong. He raised his eyebrows and his smile switched to a mocking sneer but that was the only difference in his behaviour.

"Always the proper Instructor. I don't think we've ever done a lot of sleeping together, do you?" Seifer stretched his arms behind his head. "Why don't you call it what it is?"

"And what would you prefer?" As soon as the question was asked, she knew she should have kept her mouth shut. It wasn't something she wanted to know. "Having sex?"

"Or fucking." He shrugged another shoulder, lowering his arms. "Either works."

If there had been anything within reach to throw, she would have winged it at his head. Instead, she had to satisfy herself with an icy scowl and several of her usual insults, all of which bounced off his proud exterior. She wanted to punch him. The feel of his solar plexus against her fist would have been satisfying.

Unfortunately, the physical contact would bring her too close and she would likely end up in a compromised position. It had happened enough times before. Better to swallow the pain, burry her angst, and retaliate with her brain rather than her body.

Besides, he expected her to lash out. She would be more successful if she did something more unpredictable.

"You're disgusting," she said, picking her night bag up off the desk and swiveling to drop it on the bed. "Not everyone views the world in such a cynical way."

"It's been working for me so far."

"Has it?" After unzipping the case, she turned back around, looking surprised. "From what I can tell, your personal relationships are all but non-existent. Other than Fujin and Raijin, who are really more like support staff, have you been able to sustain any long-term friendships?"

Seifer didn't move but his expression turned rigid. Her words shouldn't have hurt. They had said far worse to each other in their twenty plus years of acquaintance. Yet, coming from Quistis, someone he hadn't realized he'd considered a friend, the blunt denial of this relationship cut quick. He had never cared about getting people to like him. They either did or they didn't. It had no impact on his life regardless.

Until now.

"What about Rinoa," Seifer countered, wincing at how pathetic he sounded. He didn't know why he felt the need to engage with her on this particular subject. "I'd hardly be here if she hadn't made me promise."

Quistis shook her head, smirking. "Rinoa feels sorry for you." She turned back to her luggage and began to sort through the contents. "That's not the same thing."

It was a dismissal, the rounding of one creamy shoulder, the long line of her back that disappeared into the tight bodice of her gown at a critical point. He cursed to himself. Fuck her, and fuck Rinoa for picking out such a fucking slutty dress.

In one stride he was off the desk and across the room. He grabbed the offending shoulder and swung her back around so she had to look at him. He knew his eyes were full of violence and he took a breath to regain control.

"And she doesn't feel sorry for you? Disgraced from Garden, playing politician with Laguna, fooling no one with your snotty boyfriend who has never seen a fucking battlefield and showing off your fancy jewelry?"

"How dare you?" Quistis' eyes filled with a hate to match the fury that emanated from his form. She looked down at the bracelet decorating her right arm as if she'd never seen it before and then watched as her fingers dug into her palms. "For the record, I left Balamb. Balamb did not kick me out. There is a difference. You were there. You know this." She looked back up at him, eyes engulfed with an emotion he could not name.

"You have no right to call me out for anything. You, who show up here with a porn star by your side, glaring at everyone who looks in your direction and almost getting into a fight with Zell in the middle of the ceremony. The only reason you are even allowed at Garden is because Cid intervened for you a million times all those years ago. If he hadn't, you'd be rotting at the bottom of the D District right now."

His eyes blazed right back and his hands formed fists of their own. He felt like strangling her. "Holy fuck, Trepe. Sure, let's bring up all that again. Why not? It never gets old. That way I can't say anything about all your stupid mistakes because they will never be as bad as mine. Great fucking argument, Instructor. Real original." It was his turn to shove away. Moving back to the desk, he placed his hands flat on the surface and counted to ten. "Did I ever tell you what a bitch you can be?"

"On several occasions, in fact," Quistis responded, feeling her most immediate anger dissipate. His insults had sliced her, as had his name calling. She couldn't drop them. At the same time, she was aware of the role she had played in drawing them out. Seifer's buttons were as easily pushed as her own. It hadn't been playing fair to exhume specters of the past on top of everything else. Even if he had basically called her a whore.

Hyne, she was tired.

"Why are you here, Seifer?" Her voice was quiet. "Since we are not going to be fucking, as you so eloquently put it, and it is a little late for a game of Triple Triad, why did you come? Just to hurt me?"

He didn't answer. Standing facing the wall, body hunched over the desk, he remained silent for several long. The longer he waited to speak, the more uncomfortable she grew. She refused to apologize. If that's what he was hoping for, he could screw himself.

But…

Finally, Seifer turned around. His face was completely closed off and when he chuckled it was without humour. "That's a laugh, Trepe. Everyone knows you have a heart of stone."

Just as she was about to cave, Quistis started to feel incensed all over again. Folding her arms in a protective stance, her brow furrowed. "Oh, and I suppose you have a heart of glass."

He shrugged again, in that one-shouldered indifferent way that always stung. If there was a more insensitive, more deliberately cruel man in the world she hadn't met him. She felt like she was suffocating.

Still he didn't move, didn't turn to leave, didn't act like he planned on going anywhere for a long time.

Fine. That was just fine.

Swinging around to face the bed, she began undoing the hooks at the back of her gown. If he was going to keep standing there, she fumed, she didn't have to look at him. Once the dress was undone, she shoved it down over her hips and let the long skirt fall to the floor in a pile of satin and chiffon.

"Uh, Trepe?"

"Yes?"

"The fuck are you doing?"

She smiled to herself at the sound of disbelief in his voice. "I am tired and I am going to bed."

Quistis stooped to pick up the fallen gown and carried it over to the closet to tuck it into the hanging garment bag. There was no reason to ruin the delicate fabric, even if she doubted she'd ever have a use for it again.

Dubious, Seifer watched her move around the room in nothing but her underwear. Even when they were dating she had never paraded in front of him wearing so little. A prude till the end, she had even been sure to don a bathrobe between the shower and bedroom. To see her care so little care for how much skin she revealed to him now was disconcerting, to say the least. He couldn't trust it.

Flicking a glance in his direction, Quistis shrugged and tried not to laugh at his confused expression. "What? It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Well, no, but still… How did she expect him to respond to this? It was such an abrupt change to the mood he couldn't keep up.

Hyne-damned woman.

Back at the bed, she shook out her hair and reached around to undo the clasps of her bra. Now Seifer was staring at her bare back, recalling precisely how sweet the skin tasted at the base of her neck. Once that memory had surfaced, others demanded equal attention. The curve of her hip beneath his tight grip, the sound she made as he ran his thumb over an erect nipple, the way she said his name as she rose over him.

He struggled to recover.

Luckily, it didn't take him long too long. Making himself comfortable against the desk again, he smirked at the view she presented. When she shot a look at him from over a shoulder, hair tumbling over fair skin, soft curve of breast visible beneath a long arm, he tilted his head.

"What if I've decided I don't want to sleep with you?"

"Now who is adopting euphemisms?" Quistis smiled at him, all innocence, then turned back to her clothes, pulling an old t-shirt out of the bag. "Besides, I haven't changed my mind. If you want to stand there all night, that's your prerogative. But you aren't joining me in bed." She pulled the shirt over her head, making sure to give him one last sideways look before she let it fall over her body. The hem landed around her upper thighs, so still he had visual access to long, well-toned legs.

Famous legs, Trepe had. And for a reason. He had first hand experience. Which was why it seemed so merciless for her to be flaunting them in his face now. Not that he'd ever let on it bothered him. But there was something about her attire that did.

"Hyne, Trepe. That's my shirt."

"Is it?" She looked down at the black cotton material. There was nothing special about it, other than the fire cross insignia above her left breast. "Huh. So it is." Quistis looked up and smiled. "Is that a problem?"

It was asked so artlessly, with a rare mischievous twitch of her lips, that he had to concede. Victory to the Trepe. Chuckling, he waved a hand in the air, channeling his inner Leonhart. "It looks better on you."

The lighthearted tone and the genuine laughter in his eyes gave her pause. He hadn't looked at her like that, with so much ease, in years. She couldn't remember the last time he'd lowered his guard around her. In that moment, she knew she was done. Utterly disarmed.

His green eyes met her blue ones and both sets heated. He remembered why he came that night, how he couldn't have stayed away, even if he'd wanted to.

"Quistis." It was a statement.

She lifted a hand. "Don't." It was a whisper.

Once more she turned away. Moving the suitcase to the floor, Quistis sat on the bed. Her eyes caught on the chain of gold still decorating her wrist and she began fiddling with the clasp with her left hand. Catching sight of him watching her with caution, she felt the need to explain.

"It was my mother's," she said, voice soft and low. "Well, that's what I've been pretending anyway."

Seifer frowned and shoved his hands back in his pockets. "You found her? You didn't tell me that."

"No, not really." She shook her head, still not looking up. "I don't have proof or anything. It's just a feeling. I..." Her fingers continued to play with the clasp, opening and closing it. "That's why I moved to Esthar. Matron couldn't tell me much but she claimed they received me from connections there." Quistis glanced up then, biting her lip.

He took an involuntary step forward, uncertain. This information was brand new. Though they shared similar baggage, neither knowing if they'd had families before the lighthouse in Centra, it wasn't something they'd ever discussed, not even in the gentle moments of the night. It wasn't a forbidden topic, exactly. More impractical. He had no idea she had been seeking out her past.

"There was a female scientist who worked with Odine, about the right time. Just before the first war. She had a baby." She trailed off, not sure why she was telling him all this. It felt good to speak it all out loud, though it sounded foolish in the open air, like a child dreaming she was a princess. Quistis knew she should be over the orphan thing by now. There was no point to researching her origins when it was doubtful she would ever find the answers. But when she'd learned there was a possibility, she hadn't been able to stop herself.

"A girl?" It was an obvious thing to say. He hoped it would prod her to continue.

She nodded, eyes falling back on the bracelet. "I was able to get some details from Laguna but he claims he doesn't know much. She was killed, during the fallout after the war. Her daughter went missing. No one knows what happened to her." Undoing the clasp, she drew the chain through elegant fingers. "I found this in an envelope of her things, kept in a file in the lab. From what I can tell she had no known family."

Quistis laughed and shook her head again, closing her fingers around the jewelry. "I don't know why I took it. Pathetic, right?"

"No." Seifer cleared his throat. He'd never been good at providing comfort or spouting clichés. He rarely felt the desire. To try to do so now would come off insincere.

Face impassive, he sat next to her on the small bed. Like a block of concrete the mattress didn't shift underneath his weight. It wasn't until he bumped a shoulder against hers that she seemed to notice his close proximity.

At least she didn't pull away. That was something.

"I don't know, wearing the bracelet of a dead woman I never met, sounds pretty pathetic to me," said Quistis. "You must think I'm nuts."

"I don't." His voice sounded gruffer than he'd intended. "Who knows? Maybe she was your mother. If you think it's possible. Not like you're the type to believe in things without doing your homework. I say, if you think it's true, it probably is."

"Hmmmm."

They were silent for a few minutes, both lost to troubled inner monologues. Something in particular niggled at her mind. Even though she didn't owe him anything, she didn't want to leave him without a reason for her actions. Just in case... Just in case.

"He asked me to marry him." It came out abruptly. Leaning forward, she dropped the bracelet into her open bag.

"Who did?" Seifer did not appreciate this new subject line. He dropped his gaze to the tops of her bare thighs, as a way to distract himself. It would be so easy, to run a hand between them.

Seifer could have taken her in that moment, in any moment. They both knew it. He could have advanced on her, cupped that fine ass in his hands, breathed in her responding gasp, made her shudder around him, over him, while he slid inside her. Not only would it have been consensual, it would have been the most enthusiastic consent she had given since their last encounter, certainly more than whatever she'd given General Dickweed.

If he had, it would have ended the conversation, made sure things stayed the same between them. She would have gone back to Esthar, he would have found an excuse to be in the city in a month or so, and they would have done it all again. When he looked back on this night later, he couldn't figure out what had held him back.

"My snotty boyfriend." A faint smile passed over her lips and she pushed her hair behind her shoulder to look at him. "Except, he wasn't my boyfriend, not really. The only reason I invited him was because he asked. Probably thought it was a good opportunity to speak with Caraway. Certainly spent more time talking to him than me."

Seifer did not have the look of a happy man. Quistis would have thought it amusing if she had been in a better frame of mind. But she couldn't trust the current climate in the room.

Sexual tension was normal between them. She could handle that. This mounting energy was something else. As she sat on the single dormitory bed, Seifer's imposing frame beside her, warm and virile and so distracting, she felt a mysterious pressure compacting her muscles and internal organs, making it hard to breathe. Her head felt heavy and all she wanted to do was tip it against the broad shoulder next to her.

She wondered what he would do if she gave into this desire. Would he hold her? Would he jerk away? Or, worse, would he go rigid, as if she were a giant wasp, afraid to move lest she sting?

"What did you say?"

She tilted her head to study him. He looked annoyed. His scarred hands hung between his legs and the cords of his arms stood out in high relief. To describe his appearance as tense would have been an understatement. In contrast to his stiff posture, his hair looked soft and touchable in the low light. If she reached out to stroke it, bent to glide her lips along the ridges of his neck, he would let her, she knew. She imagined climbing into his lap, the scrape of strong hands on her scalp as she straddled him, the way her body fit against his. He would offer no resistance to that variety of physical overture. Sex was always welcome.

Tenderness, comfort, however, were anathema. Foreign, therefore, suspect.

Quistis licked her lips, suddenly dry, and contemplated the best response to his question. She decided in favour of the truth. She was done with games for the night.

"No."

He let out a long breath then, as if he had been holding it. The light sound caused her forehead to wrinkle. She assumed he didn't know she heard because he turned to her right after with an obnoxious smirk.

"Just doesn't do it for you, huh?" His voice was rich with innuendo and she felt like smacking him.

One of the most frustrating things about spending any length of time with Seifer Almasy was the way she vacillated between affection and desire and extreme irritation. Talking to him was like walking an emotional tightrope, achieving balance took all her reserves.

Why, she had to ask herself, was she incapable of keeping him away?

"My refusal of his exceedingly polite and generous proposal," she began while rising off the bed and yanking at the blankets bunched under the man's not unsubstantial weight. "Had nothing to do with his adequacies, or inadequacies, in bed. It may surprise your prurient brain to learn there are a large number of motivations having nothing to do with the act of copulation."

He rolled his eyes and pressed his weight down on the mattress, enjoying her flustered state. "Sounds like something a frustrated person would say."

Quistis glared in response and stood facing him with her hands on her hips, which served to make his smile widen.

"Why did you turn down his exceedingly generous invitation for eternal matrimony then?"

The lines of her face smoothed out. "For one thing, I barely know him and for another…" She exhaled. "It wouldn't have worked. Our ideas of what marriage should be are too different."

"Let me guess." Seifer leaned back on his elbows, nearly hitting his head against the wall. "You want romance, he wants the prestige of a hero on his arm."

"Something like that," she muttered, plonking back on the bed beside him. A comment like that should have made her angry. Instead, she merely felt sad.

"Ah, cheer up, Trepe." He sat up and punched her on the shoulder. "Don't forget all the hordes constantly pledging their undying affection to your magazine photos. Someday their balls will drop and someone will have the guts to mail you a ring."

"Gee, thanks."

Seifer laughed. The mocking lilt was gone.

"You were right about one thing, though." Quistis twisted a lock of hair around a finger. "He has never seen a battlefield."

"What a dumbass."

For some reason, the way he said those three words, the dismissive shake of his head, the bored timbre of his voice. It might have been repressed desire or plain old heartache but it all set her off again.

"Why is he a dumbass? Because he is a politician? Because he has manners?" Her heart panged in her chest. "Because he wanted to marry me?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Now Seifer glared at her, maddened by the twisting of what he thought was a sympathetic remark. He hated when she played the role of stereotypical female. He especially hated when she shoved his attempts to be nice back in his face with that damn haughty voice. "If you like him so much better than me, why isn't he here right now?"

"I am beginning to regret my decision," replied Quistis, jaw clenching. "Do you have to be such a bastard all the time?"

"Don't forget, you're heritage ain't that different from mine." He rose in a fluid motion, shoulders rolling. "You may dine with pompous assholes who spend all their time sucking each other's dicks, but you're no better than a lowly soldier. Your hands are just as bloody as mine."

"I've never pretended otherwise."

"Bullshit." His voice dropped an octave and his brows drew so low they almost covered his eyes. There was an emotional edge to it this time, as if he was on the brink. "I am fine to fuck at midnight, after all the pretty people have gone home, but only when I come to you first and only after you make sure I know how much you are lowering yourself by letting me touch you."

"That is not true." She told herself he was trying to hurt her, like he always did, trying to force a reaction, trying to get her to say something incriminating. She would not let him get to her. "We dated publicly for a year when I was still at Garden. You broke up with me, remember?"

"Right. Yeah. 'Cause it was so fucking awesome being told over and over again by all of your friends how little I deserved you. It was really great when you'd tell me the same thing every time I asked for five seconds of your precious time." He shoved both hands through his hair, not sure why he was saying all of this but unable to stop.

"Seifer, that's not true. I never, ever believed that."

"Prove it."

Breathing deeply, Quistis swung her legs up and under the thin sheets of the bed. It was the evening chill that made her shiver, not the look in his eyes. That must be it. "How?"

"Marry me."

The request was so quick, so unexpected, she paused with one slim calf raised on the air, certain she'd heard wrong.

"What?" Quistis, normally polite, forgot all poise in her incredulity. "That's not funny."

Seifer resisted the urge to swear, to shake her until she forgot he'd said anything. To fall to his knees and beg.

Standing a foot away from the bed, all heavy undertones and dark brows, his eyes bore through her. "Do I sound like I am having a good time?"

"You can't be serious." She was gaping. It wasn't an attractive look and she tried to close her mouth. But her brain was running too fast and her pulse hadn't slowed since he'd kissed her at the door and what the heck was she supposed to say?

"Have I joked about this before?" Seifer wished he could take the words back. He hadn't meant to say them, not in that way, not with so much anger between them.

Of course, there was always anger between them and it was too late anyway.

All of a sudden he was impatient for an answer. He wished he knew how to make her say yes, that there was some sort of spell he could cast or GF he could junction that would turn them into different people who knew how to be happy. If only he hadn't cocked it all up.

He should have bought a ring first.

Her eyes searched his, gaze flitting back and forth, desperate for a sign, a hint. Anything.

He lifted his chin and kept his eyes clear, determined not to show any indication of weakness. Not now. When it was so important.

Her eyes filled with unrecognizable pain and she tore her gaze away. Nothing. She'd found not even the slightest hint of passion. It was another brutal game, like all the others he'd played in the past.

Two, cackled a voice in her head. That makes two proposals without love. Two in one night. She wondered if it was a record.

Even more cruel, the one she'd most wanted, the one she'd never allowed herself to believe would be a possibility, was the one that was thrown at her, like a threat. It was enough to inspire a vow of celibacy.

"No, Seifer." Her tone was resigned, sad, empty. "No. I won't marry you."

Rolling on to her side she rested her head on the brick-like pillow and closed her eyes. She had nothing left to give. All her remaining strength went to praying he would leave before she started to cry.

"Turn off the lights when you leave, will you?"

Two long minutes later, Quistis felt rather than heard the door close. When she re-opened her eyes, it was to darkness. She knew she wouldn't be closing them again that night.

In the morning, after padding down to the showers before sunrise and changing into a skirt and blouse, she paused in the doorway of the room, garment bag hooked under a finger, night bag over her shoulder. Kneeling down, she retrieved her fallen hair pins. One, two, three... Seven. Seven pins. The eighth was nowhere in the vicinity.

Quistis frowned and rose to her full height, clasping the pins in her fist. She closed her eyes for a moment, indulged in a last moment of grief, and then swept them into her pocket. Adjusting the bag over her shoulder, she strode down the hall, all her focus on the elevator that would take her one step closer to leaving Garden and one step farther away from one Seifer Almasy. Maybe this time it would be for good.


End file.
